And the coolness of your smile is stirringofbirds between my arms

I spill my bright incalculable soul

the poems to come are for you and for me and are not for mostpeople... you and i are human beings; mostpeople are snobs.

That which we die for lives as wholly as that which we live for dies.

i shall imagine life is not worth dying,if (and when)roses complain their beauties are in vain but though mankind persuades itself that every weed's a rose,roses(you feel certain)will only smile

Your poems are rather hard to understand, whereas your paintings are so easy. Easy? Of course - you paint flowers and girls and sunsets; things that everybody understands. I never met him. Who? Everybody. Did you ever hear of nonrepresentational painting? I am. Pardon me? I am a painter, and painting is nonrepresentational. Not all painting. No: housepainting is representational. And what does a housepainter represent? Ten dollars an hour. In other words, you don't want to be serious - It takes two to be serious.

Exists no miracle mightier than this: to feel.